


Tangled Up In Blue

by orphan_account



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: EFA Fic Live 4, F/F, Free Earworm, I prefer the Indigo Girls version, Prompt: Blue, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: My submission for the EFA fic challenge. A fun excuse to write something different from what I usually do.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 17
Kudos: 109





	Tangled Up In Blue

“Do you think she’s still a redhead?” 

Waverly lay in the sunbeam that shone through her bedroom window in the Homestead, her soft pastel blankets a stark contrast to the dark of Wynonna’s hair, splayed out as it was from her position across the foot of Waverly’s bed. She stared at the ceiling, the familiar regret coiling through her like smoke: of having spoken of it again, of remembering what was, of thinking what could have been. 

Wynonna sighed heavily, her sister’s melancholy still new to her, but it had been so very long since they’d both been together enough to really see each other. “It’s only been three years, Waves. I’m guessing yeah, it’s still red.” 

“Feels like I’ve lived five lives since we last—” Waverly stopped abruptly. A heavy silence settled over the sisters.

“You really just... left her by the side of the road?” Wynonna prompted gently. Anything to give Waverly the catharsis she obviously needed.

Waverly stared at the ceiling, reaching her hand up to follow the lines of a crack with an outstretched finger. “It wasn’t the middle of nowhere.” She pushed her foot out to nudge Wynonna’s shoulder. “Do you think I’m awful, Wynonna? She had things I didn’t have...resources. Family. I didn’t abandon her.” 

“Not much of a family from what you’ve told me,” Wynonna said. 

“Well they certainly didn’t like me or where I came from.”

“So they’re elitists, but you sure it had nothing to do with the fact that she was married when you met?” Wynonna asked. 

“Soon to be divorced,” Waverly reminded her sister. She laughed, wistful. “She said I helped her out of a jam. I just don’t think she was prepared for how hard it would be. We were so young, and as soon as we got out to the east coast I realized I’d made a mistake. We fought so much—”

“—and the law won?” Wynonna asked.

“—but the sex was amazing,” Waverly finished. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, feeling something like hope, or longing. “I really loved her.”

“Gross,” Wynonna said. “But also, it’s okay.” 

Waverly slapped at Wynonna’s legs, her laughter a balm over both their wounded hearts in the soft purple of Waverly’s bedroom. Truth be told it was the first time she’d felt home in years. Safe. Wanted. 

“Her parents were nightmares. They treated me like trash. I just wanted to move, but Nicole was doing the academy and we couldn’t afford it. When her mom told me that the divorce wasn’t final with Shae, yeah, I lost my shit. I tried to leave, packed the car, but she begged me not to. I took off out of there with her in the car and it broke down, and I just left her there with everything, and walked. She tried and tried to find me, calls and messages, but I’d had it. Do you think I’m too broken to trust?” 

“Broken things can get fixed. But what could she possibly have to say?” Wynonna asked. 

“She told me she’d messed up. The divorce was final, that marrying Shae was an impulsive mistake. She begged me to stay; told me I’d see, we’d meet again someday. Soulmates in every universe. Pftt. It’s not real. Once people leave, they don’t come back. Can we get some coffee?” 

Wynonna rolled sideways until her feet hit the floor, bouncing up with a groan. “I’ll tell you what, baby girl, I haven’t exercised this hard like...ever, before you came back.” She considered her sister, now sitting up against the headboard in her bed, drawing her hair back into a messy ponytail. 

“It’s good for you,” Waverly said, sliding out of the bed and shoving her feet into oversized fluffy slippers. She followed her sister down the creaking stairs, shivering a little in the morning air, then perched on a kitchen chair, sliding right to the edge like she was preparing for flight. Wynonna bustled around the kitchen, pulling out coffee and filters, starting up the old machine. 

“Maybe we could go for a run or something later,” Wynonna said.

“Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” Waverly laughed. 

“I mean, a lot has changed in the past three years.” Wynonna shrugged. “I came back.” 

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to tell me how it is that my so-called juvenile delinquent sister is working for the feds, all of a sudden.” 

“We’ll get to that,” Wynonna said, dropping a mug in front of Waverly. She yanked open the old fridge, the door groaning in protest, and pulled out almond milk, pushing that across the table. Waverly stared at her dubiously. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Wynonna rolled her eyes. “I’m just happy you came home in one piece.” 

“You think you’re the only one who can just escape into the world, and live?” Waverly sipped her coffee appraisingly. “It’s actually good.” 

Wynonna stuck out her tongue. “Really, baby girl.” She leaned back into the fridge, rooting around for breakfast ingredients. 

“Are you actually going to cook?” Waverly asked. She slid back further in her chair, relaxing over her elbows on the table. “I hate cooking.” 

“You didn’t used to hate cooking,” Wynonna observed. She pulled out eggs and butter, then squeezed the loaf of bread on the counter. “The bread is still fresh. I even have an avocado.”

“That’s it, I’ve died,” Waverly smirked. 

“Stick around and I’ll show you what else I can do,” Wynonna said.

“That’s a first, you asking me to stay.” 

“Why do you hate cooking?” Wynonna ignored the jab, sawing two slices off the bread and laying them on a plate. Striking a match, she lit the stove and dropped a large knob of butter in the center of their old cast iron pan. “Eggs?” She waved her spatula at Waverly. 

“No eggs. I cooked for other people for almost three years. It was that or the fish cannery.”

Wynonna barked out a laugh. “I pictured you digging up artifacts in some remote outpost. Or like...yoga on a tropical island. Not slinging hash for truckers.” 

“Yeah well neither did I!” Waverly’s tone rang through the kitchen, sharp and accusing. “I didn’t have the luxury of finding a job that catered to my interests. I needed work, Wynonna. I had nothing. And I wasn’t gonna strip for it, you can believe that.” 

Wynonna pulled the pan off the stove and leaned back against the counter, eyeing her sister carefully. Waverly didn’t miss the guardedness in her posture and sighed, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry Wynonna. I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“We all gotta keep on keepin’ on, right Waves?” Wynonna’s voice was soft. 

“It wasn’t that bad, Wynonna. I met a friend. We travelled together for a while. She wanted to get back home to Mexico. Somehow we got stuck in Louisiana. It was beautiful, actually. Just marshland and water all around. All the time we were growing up here, I always thought I wanted to live near the ocean. I thought I’d be happy being warm all the time, swimming out as far as I could, just surrounded by all that...life.” 

The smell of cooking food filled the space and Waverly allowed herself to drift. If she thought hard enough, she could feel Valdez’ body next to her own, but she couldn’t see her face. Was she even real? 

“I couldn’t wait to leave.”

When the food appeared in front of her, Waverly ate, oblivious to the looks Wynonna flicked her way, no more talking when the meal was done. She silently cleared their plates and stood in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“I’ll put on running clothes if you mean it,” Waverly said. 

Wynonna slapped her hands on her knees. “Let’s do it.” 

***

“I want to go out tonight,” Wynonna declared. “You’ve been back in town for six months and you haven’t left the house. You need to get back out there.” 

Waverly looked up from her book, blinking at her sister as if just realizing the time of day. “You want to do what?” 

“See? You don’t even hear me anymore. You’re just immersed in…” Wynonna peered over Waverly’s shoulder. “Is that Italian?”

“It’s poetry.” Waverly stroked a reverent finger down the spine. 

“Waverly,” Wynonna whined. Her sister turned back to her. “Let’s go out tonight and have a beer. Maybe meet some people. C’mon, get up.” 

“Where are we gonna go?” Waverly said. “At least say there’s fries too.” 

“Pussy Willows,” Wynonna said. She bounded over to Waverly and gently removed the book to the table, then pulled her up by her wrists.

“Hey,” Waverly protested weakly. 

“Pussy Willows has fries, I can talk to that cute bartender. Maybe you’ll find someone interesting...”

“Jonas?” Waverly wrinkled her nose. “That creeper? Beside, Wy, a topless bar?” 

“They have the best fries,” Wynonna cajoled. 

“But Jonas,” Waverly sighed. “And I don’t want someone to talk to.” The rest left unspoken between them. 

Wynonna swung their joined hands. “C’mon...You can be my wingwoman if he gets annoying. Tell him there aren’t any tampons in the women’s bathroom. Also...there will be fries.” 

Waverly mused, as if the decision wasn’t made the minute her sister pulled her to her feet and a warm, desperately longed for sensation of being wanted swept through her. “OK, I’ll change.” 

“Woot!” Wynonna crowed, slapping Waverly on the ass. “Wear something hot!” 

***

The gravel crunching under Wynonna’s truck tires as she pulled into the lot did little to mask the music throbbing out of the low slung, neon illuminated roadhouse: trashy, pumping. Pussy Willows, the sign glaring pink, the pinup girl’s leg flickering slightly. In front of the door, under a single bulb, a bouncer hunched on a stool. As Wynonna parked, Waverly stared at the place, wishing she’d said no, stayed on the couch drowning in regret. 

“You have to stop beating yourself up.” Wynonna spoke into the darkness of the cab. Waverly waited a beat for another speech about how she deserved better. Did she deserve anything after what she’d done? Was there ever any coming back from that? Wynonna cleared her throat. “You both were young. If you could change everything, baby girl, would you?”

Waverly turned to look at her sister. Wynonna sat shadowed on the bench seat, her fingers tapping nervously on the wheel. “I...of course I would,” she said finally. There, it was done. The universe had its answer. In front of them a burst of sound, loud yelling and the sounds of a brawl. “No. I wouldn’t,” Waverly admitted. “I wouldn’t change coming home to find you back here, or the experiences I had between then and now.” 

“But Nicole?” Wynonna stared through the windshield at the bar. A woman laughed loudly, and the door slammed open, bright light illuminating a cop shoving through the opening, one hand bunched into the fabric of a man’s jacket and the other firmly in the back of his belt. With effortless grace she pressed the man up against the side of a car, a hip into his ass keeping him firmly in place. 

Waverly blinked, peering at the scene unfolding in front of her. 

“So, uh...Purgatory Sheriff, where my office is? They put a cop out here on Friday nights. It was getting a bit rowdy.” Wynonna cleared her throat. “She started here a couple weeks ago. I said I wanted to tell you myself.”

Up against the side of a squad car, Nicole was competently snapping handcuffs onto her catch. Waverly could just make out the point where his loud, obnoxious tone went towards wheedling, right up until he found himself contorting into the backseat. Waverly watched Nicole straighten up, pushing red hair behind an ear. She stripped off her gloves and paired them neatly into her back pocket. 

“Say something, Waverly,” Wynonna croaked. “Are you mad at me?” 

“She looks good in blue.”

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for the EFA fic challenge. A fun excuse to write something different from what I usually do.


End file.
